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Oh! Helpless Man 



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"Oh! Helpless Man 

A Comedy in One Act 



»f 



By 
EDGAR MORETTE 



NOTE 

The professional rights in this play are strictly reserved and ap- 
plication for the right to produce it should be made to the 
author in care of the publishers. Amateurs may produce it 
without payment of royalty on condition that the name of the 
author appears on all programs and advertising issued in con- 
nection with such performances. 




BOSTON 

WALTER H. BAKER COMPANY 
1922 



P5 33:^S 
"Oh! Helpless Man" 



CHARACTERS 

Helen Dawson, the new tenant. 

Raymond Osgood, the departing tenant ; in love with Helen. 

Mrs, Pinchbeck, the landlady. 

Expressman, "It's none of his business." 

Scene. — ^The living-room of Osgood's apartment. 
Time. — The present. 




Copyright, 1922, by Walter H. Baker Company. 
All rights reserved. 

m 26 1922 
©CLD 60832 



CHARACTERISTICS 

Helen Dawson is an attractive girl of about twenty- 
three. She is dressed in a walking suit. Beyond the 
necessary heightening of color, she may be her own 
natural pretty self. 

Raymond Osgood should be slightly taller than Helen; 
good-looking, and with a manly alert manner. He 
also may be naturally himself unless it is deemed best 
to add mustachios or other slight changes. 

Mrs. Pinchbeck should be slightly amusing in appear- 
ance and manner, but by no means a caricature. Hers 
is an important part if done well, and as that kind of a 
landlady would do it. 

The Expressman must not be caricatured; he can be 
funny enough in his working clothes if thoughtfully 
made up. 



PROPERTIES 

A telephone on the table. Several handy chairs. The 
chair shown on the plan of stage-setting should be a com- 
fortable, stuifed armchair into which pins and needles 
can be stuck easily. 

A pair of portieres packed ready to be taken out of one 
of the trunks. Several trunks, hand-bags, suitcases. A 
hand-bag must contain an assortment of samples, theatre 
tickets, hairpins, gloves, scissors, sewing materials, comb, 
nail-file, handkerchief, letters, fountain pen, purse, loose 
change, etc., all ready to be turned out on the table. 

A button of the correct color, scissors, spool of thread, 
needle, for Raymond, also shaving materials, and lather. 
Raymond must also have a bunch of Iceys ready in his 
pocket. 

Other accessories for a bachelor apartment may be 
added as desired. 



"Oh! Helpless Man 



99 



SCENE. — The living room of a New York apartment. 

(Front door bell rings at rise of curtain. Enter 
Osgood back r., in his shirt sleeves. He is half 
shaved and holds a safety razor in his hand. Hur- 
ries toward door back l. Telephone bell rings. 
Osgood turns and advances toward telephone. 
Dumb waiter bell rings. Osgood turns again toward 
door back l. Telephone bell rings. Osgood hesi- 
tates, then hurries to telephone and takes down 
receiver.) 

Osgood {at telephone). Raymond Osgood speaking. 

Who? Mrs? Miss? I'm sorry, but I can't 

hear you. . . . {Dumb waiter bell rings.) It's the da — the 
dumb waiter bell. . . .the dumb waiter bell !. . . .Oh ! never 
mind; it was nothing that would interest you, {Front 
door bell rings.) and anyway it's the front door, {Dumb 
waiter bell rings.) or at any vdle. . . .{Both bells ring 
insistently. Shouting. ) Hello ! can you hear me ?....! 
rather thought you couldn't ; then would you mind hold- 
ing the line while I. . . . {Both bells ring violently.) Oh ! 
damn the bells !. . . . {Shouting.) I said " wait a minute, 
please." {Puts down receiver and exit hurriedly throxigh 
door back l., presently returning with Mrs. Pinchbeck. 
Dumb waiter bell continues to ring.) I'm sorry to have 
kept you waiting, Mrs. Pinchbeck; but every bell in the 
apartment has suddenly been seized with Saint Vitus's 
dance. 



6 " OH ! HELPLESS MAN " 

Mrs. Pinchbeck. I came to ask at what time you 
mean to move, Mr. Osgood. 

Osgood. To move? Who? Me? To move what? 

Mrs. Pinchbeck. To move out of the apartment. 
It's the first, you know. 

Osgood. But I've no intention of moving; I 

(Dumb waiter bell rings.) 

Mrs. Pinchbeck. That's the dumb waiter. 

Osgood. Yes, Mrs. Pinchbeck, you've said it; and 
(Pointing to telephone.) that's the telephone. 

Mrs. Pinchbeck. Is some one holding the line? 

Osgood. She is. At least I believe so. I am waiting 
for a leisure moment to answer some of the calls 
which {Dumb waiter bell rings.)^ 

Mrs. Pinchbeck. Go ahead; don't mind me; I'll 
attend to the dumb waiter. 

Osgood. Will you? I'll be everlastingly grateful if 
you will. 

Mrs. Pinchbeck. Sure I will. [Exit back l. 

Osgood (goes to telephone). Hello! Are you there, 
Miss or is it Mrs.?. . . .Miss Stella Fairfax. I fear you 
have the advantage of me .... Oh ! you want her. I'm 
sorry, but they have given you the wrong number. . . . 
yes, this is Plaza nine, five, oh, six; but Miss Fairfax 
doesn't live here. . . . Oh ! yes absolutely sure ; this is my 
apartment, you see. . . .no. . . .no woman lives here. . . .1 
am a bachelor. .. .no, a plain unattached, respectable 
bachelor. . . .no. . . .no, neither sisters, nor cousins, nor 
aunts, nor grandmothers, nor. . . .1 am sorry, I should 
like to accommodate you, but .... Oh ! your numbers are 
all right; it is only your facts that are wrong. What? 
tell Miss Fairfax? But I tell you I don't know Miss 
Fairfax .... Oh ! yes ; I am perfectly willing to take your 
message if that will ease your mind. . . .Tell her to call 
up Rhinelander eight, oh, thrrree, nine ? . . . . why cer- 
tainly, if ever it is my privilege to meet Miss Fairfax, I 
shall take pleasure in.... Pray don't mention it.... 
Good-bye. 



" OH ! HELPLESS MAN '* 7 

(Hangs up receiver. Front door hell rings. Osgood 
starts toward door hack l. As he opens door, 
Expressman enters with trunk.) 

Expressman. Excuse me, sorr, the front dure was 
open. {Slams down trunk.) 

Osgood. What's this? 

Expressman. 'Tis a troonk, sorr, I'm a-thinkin'. 

Osgood. Whose trunk? 

Expressman. Indade thin I dunno; but 'tis fer her- 
silf all right. 

Osgood. For whom ? What do you mean ? 

Expressman. Fer the lady of the house sure. 

Osgood. You mean for Mrs. Pinchbeck? 

Expressman. Indade an' I do not mane Mrs. Pinch- 
beck. Sure I know Mrs. Pinchbeck, the wife of the 
janitor. The lady I mane is the wan wot lives here, in 
this apartmint — the madam — yer wife, I suppose, sorr. 

Osgood. Well, you've another gness coming. 

Expressman. Yer don't say. Well, yer never can 
tell, can yer now? 

Osgood. I mean she doesn't live here. 

Expressman. Yer wife doesn't? Sure thin she 
thinks she does. 

Osgood. I tell you 

Expressman {takes paper out of his hat). Ain't this 
apartmint number twinty-sivin ? 

Osgood. Yes, but 

Expressman (showing Osgood paper). Will thin 



Osgood. There's some mistake, I tell you. Take it 
away; I'll not sign for it. 

Expressman. Oh! that's all right, sorr; the lady 
hersilf done that. 

Osgood. When ? Where ? 

Expressman. Down-stairs, just now. Sure she's 
comin' up in a minute ; soon as I get the other troonks in. 
She just stopped ter spake ter the janitor. 

Osgood. Coming up here? What? (Slight pause.) 
What's her name? 

Expressman. Sure thin 'tis here. (Reading tag on 
trunk.) Ste — Stella. 



8 " OH ! HELPLESS MAN " 

Osgood. Not Stella Fairfax? 

Expressman. Sure 'tis the same, sorr. So 'tis all 
right, after all. Ye'll be lavin' the dure open, plaze, so's 
I can bring in the rist of the troonks. 

[Exit Expressman. 

Osgood. But I tell you Here, what the devil 

(Enter Mrs. Pinchbeck with an armful of bundles.) 
Mrs. Pinchbeck ! What's the meaning of all this ? What 
are those? 

Mrs. Pinchbeck (putting bundles on the table). Pack- 
ages for Miss Fairfax. 

Osgood. Miss Fairfax again! Mrs. Pinchbeck, will 
you be good enough to explain. 

Mrs. Pinchbeck. Why yes, Mr. Osgood ; that's what 
I came up for. You see, Mr. Osgood, as you didn't 
want to renew the lease 

Osgood. But I do want to renew the lease. 

Mrs. Pinchbeck. All I know is that when the agent 
called, he said 

Osgood. Well then, excuse me if I speak plainly. He 
lied, Mrs. Pinchbeck. 

Mrs. Pinchbeck. Well, but, Mr. Osgood, I haven't 
even told you what he said. 

Osgood. I don't care what he said, Mrs. Pinchbeck, 
he lied anyway. Besides, I know what I told him, don't 
I? 

Mrs. Pinchbeck. Perhaps you do. 

Osgood. Perhaps ! Of course I do. I told him that 
it was an outrage to raise the rent again this year ; I told 
him I'd be — er — hanged if I'd submit to any further ex- 
tortion and that I'd see him — er — hanged before I'd 

Mrs. Pinchbeck. Well, you see 

Osgood. But, mark you, Mrs. Pinchbeck, I never told 
him that I would not sign the lease. 

Mrs. Pinchbeck. Well, I'm awful sorry, Mr. Os- 
good ; but of course it can't be helped now. Miss Fair- 
fax has rented the apartment, she's signed the lease, she's 
paid the rent In advance and 

Osgood. Oh ! Very well ; I'll look around for an- 
other place, that's all; but I must say I don't think I've 



" OH ! HELPLESS MAN " 9 

been fairly treated, Mrs. Pinchbeck. When does — er — 
Stella expect to move in? 

Mrs. Pinchbeck. Why, she's down-stairs now. 

Osgood. Yes, so Fve been told; but I mean when is 
she planning to move in here for keeps, to take posses- 
sion? 

Mrs. Pinchbeck. Her lease begins at noon to-day. 

Osgood. What! Surely you don't mean, {Looks at 
his watch.) but it's eleven-fifty-five now. You can't ex- 
pect me 

Mrs. Pinchbeck. Why not? You can leave your 
things down in the cellar if you like until you find another 
place. 

Osgood. Oh, thank you so much ; and what about me ? 
Am I to be left in the cellar too until ? 

Mrs. Pinchbeck. Well, there's the hotels, ain't there? 

Osgood. Oh! there's the ? Yes, of course, so 

there is. There's the — there are the hotels. 

Mrs. Pinchbeck. Well, then that's settled and I'll let 
you go on with your shaving. 

Osgood. My shaving? (Puts his hand to his face.) 
Oh, yes; I had forgotten. Excuse my deshabille, Mrs. 
Pinchbeck. 

Mrs. Pinchbeck. Oh, that's all right; but please 
hurry; Miss Fairfax may be here any minute. 

Osgood. Well, Miss Fairfax will jolly well have to 
wait, that's all. I'm not going to be thrown out into the 
street half dressed to suit her convenience. 

Mrs. Pinchbeck. Oh, come, Mr. Osgood; all I ask 
of you is to hurry. Surely you 

Osgood. All right, all right; I'll hurry, for I cer- 
tainly don't want to be here when Miss What's-her-name 
comes. I don't want to see her ; for I should consider it 
my duty to tell her that she is a thoughtless, selfish, grasp- 
ing, ugly old woman, 

Mrs. Pinchbeck. But, Mr. Osgood 

Osgood. What's the matter? Isn't she old? 

Mrs. Pinchbeck. No, indeed ! 

Osgood. Perhaps you'll go so far as to claim she isn't 
ugly? 



lO " OH ! HELPLESS MAN " 

Mrs. Pinchbeck. I should call her rather good-look- 
ing myself. 

Osgood. Well, she's everything else I said, and more, 
too. I'll think up the appropriate adjectives before I see 
her. 

Mrs. Pinchbeck. You would never say them to her 
face, Mr. Osgood. 

Osgood. Oh, yes, I would; you wait and see. Of 
course I should not use those very words, you know. In 
addressing a woman, even a woman like Stella, a man 
must observe the forms of civilized intercourse. But I 
should be frank, frank and firm — " suaviter in modo," 
" fortiter in re " — that sort of thing, you understand- — or, 
don't you ? Perhaps you don't know Latin ? 

Mrs. Pinchbeck. Latin! Me? Gracious no, of 
course not ! 

Osgood. Neither do I; but I remember those six 
words; they were in the Latin reader. They mean: 
" When you've got your opponent where you want him, 
don't waste your breath calling him names; but use all 
your pep to land him a good one straight from the shoul- 
der where it'll do the most good." 

Mrs. Pinchbeck. My ! that's a lot to say in six words, 
ain't it ? 

Osgood. Oh, that's the beauty of Latin. " Suaviter 
in modo ; fortiter in re." That's me, Mrs. Pinchbeck. I 
don't want to meet Stella; but if ever I should meet her, 
you just watch me; I'll show you what I mean. Straight 
from the shoulder (Illustrates by gesture.), figuratively 
speaking, you understand, but straight from the shoulder. 

(Enter Helen, back.) 

Helen (not seeing Osgood) . Your husband told me I 
should find you here, Mrs. Pinchbeck. 

Mrs. Pinchbeck. Yes, Miss Fairfax ; I was just 

Osgood. Helen ! 

Helen. Why, Raymond, this is a surprise. How 
good of you to call so soon; but how did you find my 
address ? 

Osgood. Your address ? I don't understand. 



"oh! helpless man" II 

Mrs. Pinchbeck. Why, Mr. Osgood, I thought you 
didn't know Miss Fairfax? 

Osgood. I don't; but I know Miss Dawson very well. 

Helen. Mr. Osgood and I are old friends, Mrs. 
Pinchbeck. And, by the way, my name is Helen Dawson. 

Mrs. Pinchbeck. Well, but I thought 

Helen. Miss Fairfax is the friend who is sharing 
this apartment with me. We have agreed that all our 
business arrangements should be made in her name, as 
I have no head for business. 

Mrs. Pinchbeck. Oh, I see. I always took you for 
Miss Fairfax. Well, Pm glad you're not Miss Fairfax. 

Helen. You are glad that I am not ? Why, what dif- 
ference could it make to you which of us was Miss Fair- 
fax? 

Mrs. Pinchbeck. Oh, not any to me; but to you a 
whole lot. If you'd a-been Miss Fairfax, Mr. Osgood 
would have had to speak them^ — now — Latin words to 
you : " Sway with her in motor ; forty-two an' three." 

Helen. What on earth do you mean, Mrs. Pinch- 
beck ? 

Mrs. Pinchbeck (mimicking Osgood). Straight from 
the shoulder, you understand ; straight from the shoulder ! 

Osgood. It's a httle joke of Mrs. Pinchbeck's. I fear 
Mrs. Pinchbeck is afHicted with a sense of humor. 

Helen. A joke? Oh, all right; but I don't under- 
stand. What's the matter, Raymond? Have you met 
with an accident? Your coat 

Osgood. Oh, I beg your pardon ; you see, I was shav- 
ing when Mrs. Pinchbeck 

Helen. Shaving ? Here ? 

Osgood. Of course ; where else should I shave ? 

Helen. I am afraid I don't quite follow you. 

Osgood. I live here, you know. 

Helen. You — live — here ? In — my — apartment ? 

Osgood. Well, I thought I did, until ten minutes ago. 

Mrs. Pinchbeck. Mr. Osgood is the former tenant. 
He is moving out as fast as he can. Ain't you, Mr. Os- 
good? 

Osgood. Yes, oh, yes, as fast as I can. 



12 " OH ! HELPLESS MAN " 

Helen. Oh, I see ; what a strange coincidence ! But 
I hope I am not putting you to any inconvenience by mov- 
ing in to-day. 

Osgood. Don't mention it, Helen. As Mrs. Pinch- 
beck was kind enough to point out, I can store the fur- 
niture in the^cellar until (Pause.), and then there's the 
hotel, you know. I shall have finished packing in a jiffy. 
Perhaps you will be kind enough to allow me the use of 
my room — er — of my former bedroom long enough to 
attend to that and — er — to finish shaving. 

Helen. Why, of course. Take your tim.e; make your- 
self quite at home. 

Osgood. Thank you, Helen. (False start.) 

Mrs. Pinchbeck. Well, if there's anything I can do 
for you. Miss Fairf — Miss Dawson, I hope you will let 
me know. 

Helen. Thank you. [Exit Mrs. Pinchbeck. 

Osgood. How good it is to see you again, Helen ! 

Helen. Then the pleasure is mutual, Raymond. 

Osgood. Do you really mean that? 

Helen. Of course. 

Osgood. It's so long since we met. 

Helen. Let me see ; it's only just three weeks, isn't it ? 

Osgood. Only three weeks ! Three eternities ! 

Helen (laughing). And, anyway, whose fault is it? 

Osgood. Surely not mine. 

Helen. Whose else, pray? 

Osgood. Well, I like that. Do you remember what 
happened the last time we met? 

Helen. Of course ; you asked me to marry you. 

Osgood. And you refused. 

Helen. Quite so, Raymond dear ; but I didn't ask you 
to drop out of my life completely, did I ? 

Osgood. You mean to say that you expected me to 
continue to call on you after that? 

Helen. Why not? If a woman is to be cut off com- 
pletely from the society of all the men she doesn't marry, 
she is likely to lead a lonely life in a community which 
frowns upon polyandry, — don't you think? — especially if 
she means never to marry at all. 



" OH ! HELPLESS MAN '* I3 

Osgood. But, Helen 

(Enter Expressman with a trunk.) 

Expressman. Ah ! there ye are, mum ; where'll ye be 
after havin' it ? 

Helen. In here, please. 

(Points to folding door with portiere.) 

Expressman. Sure thin yer husband is after tellin' 
me ' 

Helen. Who ? 

Expressman. Himself there. [Exit Osgood, back r. 

Helen. Oh, but he isn't I haven't 

Expressman. Yis, I know; that's what he said, an' 
sure he wud have it that yer don't live here too. 

Helen. Oh, it's all a misunderstanding. 

Expressman. He sot up a alibi, so ter spake. 

Helen. You are quite mistaken, I assure you; that 
gentleman is not 

Expressman. Oh, all right, mum. Of coorse 'tain't 
none o' my bizness, but 

Helen. Please put the trunk in there. 

Expressman (picks up trunk). Yis, mum. Of coorse 
'tain't none o' my bizness, but 

Helen. Near the window, please. 

Expressman. Yis, mum. (Exit through folding 
door. Crash of trunk outside. Reenters.) Of coorse 
'tain't none o' my bizness 

Helen. I'll unpack this one where it is. Please turn 
it over so that I can get at it. 

Expressman (turns over the trunk). All right, mum. 
Of coorse 'tain't none o' my bizness 

Helen (goes to door hack l., followed by Express- 
man). You can leave the others in the hall until they 
are all up-stairs, and then bring them all in at once. 

Expressman. Yis, mum. Of coorse 'tain't none o' 
my 

Helen (shuts door in his face. Business unstrapping 
the trunk and throwing open the catches. The trunk is 



14 " OH ! HELPLESS MAN ! " 

locked. What has she done with the keyf Oh, yes, of 
course it is in her hand-bag. She looks there hut does 
not find it. Nevertheless it was certainly there she put it. 
Well, then, of course it must be there. She empties the 
contents of the bag on the table, a miscellaneous lot of 
samples, theatre tickets, hairpins, gloves, scissors, sewing 
materials, comb, nail file, handkerchief, letters, fountain 
pen and various odds and ends, including a purse and 
some loose change. The keys are not there. Perhaps 
Raymond has a key that will fit. Goes to door back r., 
.knocks and calls). Raymond! Raymond! 

Osgood (opening door back r. He is still in his shirt 
sleeves and he is vigorously rubbing his face with a 
tozuel). Oh, your friend has departed, has he? Of 
coorse 'tain't none o' my bizness, but 

(Throws towel outside and enters.) 

Helen. Oh, you heard him, did you? Then why 
didn't you shut him up? 

Osgood. Aren't you attributing to me magical powers ? 
Besides, he was quite right, you know. 

Helen. Right ? How do you mean, " quite right " ? 

Osgood. It was natural under the circumstances that 
he should take me for your husband. 

Helen. Oh, it was, was it? 

Osgood. Absolutely; but it would be much more to 
the point if you did. 

Helen. If I did? Did what? 

Osgood. Take me for your husband. 

Helen (laughing). Oh, you silly boy! Come, make 
yourself useful. Open this trunk for me, there's a dear; 
I have lost my keys. 

Osgood. All right. (Takes out his bunch of keys.) 
By the way, I forgot to tell you that just before you came 
there was a telephone call for Miss Fairfax. 

(Tries keys one after the other in trunk lock.) 
Helen. From ? 



"oh! helpless man!'* 15 

Osgood. For. 

Helen. It's for Stella. 

Osgood. How remarkable ! I came to the same con- 
clusion when I heard the name. She said 

Helen. Who? Stella? 

Osgood. I don't know. The voice asked that Stella — 
Miss Fairfax — should call up Rhinelander eight, oh, 
thrrree, nine. Have you a hairpin ? 

Helen. Eight, oh, three, nine? That's his number. 
What for? ^ 

Osgood. Is it ? How very interesting ! To open the 
trunk. 

Helen. Yes, John Castleton's ; the man who is pester- 
ing Stella to marry him. I do hope she won't ; sometimes 
I'm afraid. I hate a man who can't take " no "' for an 
answer. (Hands him a hairpin.) Here's one. What 
did he say? 

Osgood. She said (Taking hairpin.) Thank 

you, that is just the thing. She said — Oh! that's just 
about all she did say. 

Helen. It must have been his sister. (Goes to tele- 
phone.) Rhinelander, eight, oh, thrrree, nine — ^yes, 
please. (Osgood, with the end of his closed penknife, 
bends the hairpin and after a few trials succeeds in open- 
ing the trunk. Helen, holding her hand over transmitter. 
To Osgood.) That was awfully clever of you, Raymond. 
Thank you. 

Osgood. Oh, there's nothing a hairpin can't do; that 
is nothing except 

Helen. Hold up a woman's hair. 

Osgood. And open the door of her heart. What is it 
Shakespeare says — or was it Milton ? " It is harder for 
a poor man to enter the heart of the woman than for a 
cable to pass through the eye of a needle." 

Helen (speaking into telephone). No; Rhinelander, 
eight, oh, thrrree, nine. . . .no not five; en, eye, en, ee, 
neye-en .... right. ( To Osgood. ) I suppose you think 
it is funny to saddle your misquotations on Shake- 
speare ? 

Osgood. Funny? I assure you the subject is a most 



l6 " OH ! HELPLESS MAN " 

painful one to me ; and, anyway, I admitted that the guilt 
might be Milton's. 

Helen. What has the heart of a woman to do 
with ? 

Osgood. I said " the woman." 

Helen. Well, I say there's no question of rich or 
poor in my — in the mind of the woman. 

Osgood. Oh ! I did not use the word " poor " in its 
economic sense ; but as a term of pity. 

Helen {laughing). Well, at any rate, why "cable" 
when the text is " than for a camel to pass through the 
eye of a needle " ? 

Osgood. Would " camel " make the feat any easier — 
for me, I mean- — than " cable " ? 

Helen. Not a bit. 

Osgood. Then I stick to " cable." Old MacLaurin, 
my Scotch Professor of Greek, held that " camel " was 
a mistranslation due to the mistaking of an ee for an 
eye, not in the needle, you understand, but in the original 
Greek. That's all I remember of Mac's course. You 
wouldn't have me lightly sacrifice my hard-earned educa- 
tion, would you ? 

Helen {at telephone). This is Helen Dawson 

yes. . . .Why, Stella!. . . .Yes, I've moved in. Some one 
called you up a while ago, and I thought it might have 
been Mr. Castleton's sister with the message you were 

expecting It was you ? But why should you call 

yourself ?... .Oh! I see. . . .no, that's true; they don't 
seem to have known my name until just now .... didn't 
know yours either?. . . .oh, that was Mr. Osgood. . . .yes 
.... yes .... yes, by a strange coincidence he turns out to 
be the former tenant .... he didn't know .... no ... . but 
how did you get there, and why aren't you here ? . . . . 
{Long pause.) Who?. . . .Mr. Castleton?. . . .he didn't! 
... .oh, he did? {Pause.) You did?. . . .well, I'm flab- 
bergasted!. . . .yes; oh, yes, if it is for your happiness; 
but. . . .yes, of course I wish you joy, dear. . . .well, natu- 
rally I am disappointed; I shall miss you aAvfully. . . .no; 
it can't be quite the same; you know very well it can't; 
but if it is for your happiness .... oh ! no ; not for me. 



"oh! helpless man 17 

thank you.... no, never .... neither him nor any one 

else oh, yes. . . .yes. . . .yes. . . .good-bye. {Hangs up 

receiver. ) She's done it ! 

Osgood. Stella has? 

Helen. Yes; she has married him; married John 
Castleton. I just knew she would ! 

Osgood. Good for Stella ! 

Helen. Suddenly, without warning, just like that ! 

Osgood. What about the license ? 

Helen. Oh, it seems that Mr. Castleton had been 
carrying it in his pocket for over a week. 

Osgood. Good for Castleton ! 

Helen. What about me? 

Osgood. You ? Did you want to marry him ? 

Helen. Of course not, stupid. 

Osgood. Then I don't see 

Helen Oh, don't you? Here am I left in the lurch, 
alone, with this apartment on my hands. 

Osgood. Why alone? Are you asking my advice, 
Helen? 

Helen. No ; I am not. 

Osgood. I was afraid you weren't. No, I don't think 
that " cable " makes it any easier than " camel." 

Helen. What on earth are you talking about ? 

Osgood. I was just thinking. 

Helen. Don't do it, Raymond. It isn't becoming to 
your style. (Laughs.) Don't mind me, old thing; I 
I don't know why I should take out my grouch on you. 

Osgood, Oh, I don't mind. Of course if you had a 
husband now 

Helen. I could take it out on him, you mean ? 

Osgood. Yes ; that would be an advantage, wouldn't it ? 

Helen (laughing) . I am not so sure. 

Osgood. He might have other advantages too. 

Helen. He? Who? 

Osgood. I say that a husband might be of use to a 
woman in a number of ways. 

Helen. Oh, perhaps; but as I recall the experiences 
of the married women of my acquaintance I am not deeply 
impressed by this view of the case. 



1 8 " OH ! HELPLESS MAN " 

Osgood (inclined to debate the point). Well, now 

Helen. Oh, I don't deny that when there is a lock 
to be picked it is convenient to have a skillful locksmith 
or an expert burglar at one's beck and call; but picking 
locks is not a daily necessity in a woman's household ; and 
if it were, a woman could soon master the art of lock- 
picking as well as a man. 

Osgood. No doubt; nevertheless there are other 
things which a husband 

Helen. Well, he could hardly be an expert at all of 
them ; and if he were, the price a woman has to pay for 
a husband is — ■■ — 

Osgood. Prohibitive ? 

Helen. I think so. 

Osgood. Don't you think — er — that — er — well, that 
some husbands might be a bargain at that? 

Helen (laughing). Perhaps. But I wouldn't think 
of sacrificing a perfectly good friend on the remote 
chance. 

Osgood. Ah, well. Is there anything else I can do 
for you ? 

Helen. Nothing, thank you. I can manage perfectly 
well. There's no reason why I should keep you from 
your packing any longer. 

(Noise outside back and crash of trunk.) 

Osgood. There goes another trunk. [Exit, back r. 

Helen (after thoughtfully watching him go, sighs). 
Heigho ! 

(She begins to unpack trunk and carries the articles 
into the room, l., or lays them out on the chairs 
near by. At last she produces from the trunk a pair 
of portieres, puts them over a chair near the fold- 
ing doors and draws back to note the effect. Yes, 
unquestionably these are in better taste than the ones 
already up. She decides to make the change; but 
how is she to reach so high? She brings over a 
chair and stands upon it. The chair is not high 
enough. Ah! an idea! the trunk. She closes this 
and drags it across the room. This is no better; hut 



" OH ! HELPLESS MAN ** I9 

perhaps the combination of trunk and chair will an- 
swer. Carefully she places the chair upon the trunk. 
Is it steady'/ Not very; but she decides to risk it all 
the same. She climbs upon the trunk and from 
there upon the chair. Victory at last! She re- 
moves the old portieres and throws them down. 
Now she will have to climb down to get the new por- 
tieres. She attempts the feat; but finds it harder 
than climbing up. The chair is none too secure. 
Enter Osgood, still in his shirt sleeves.) 

Osgood. What's all the racket about ? Anything I can 
do for you? What's the great idea? Are you learning 
to fly? 

Helen. I have taken down those horrid portieres and 
I want to substitute my own pretty ones for them. 

Osgood. Let me do it for you. 

Helen. But now I can't get down ; this pyramid is so 
wobbly. Stand aside so I can jump. 

Osgood. No, don't jump ; you'll hurt yourself. 

Helen. Oh, pshaw ! I was one of the best jumpers 
at college. 

Osgood. But not in skirts. Here, please let me 

(He lifts her down. While he holds her a little longer 
than is absolutely necessary, he is strongly tempted 
to kiss her; but with difficulty restrains himself.) 

Helen {somewhat tremulous, gently disengages her- 
self). Thank you. 

Osgood. Helen ! Helen ! If I did not love you so 
much 

Helen, Yes, I know ; you would have kissed me ; and 
that would have been taking an unfair advantage, 
wouldn't it ? 

Osgood. Of course. I want nothing from you, Helen, 
which you do not freely give me. 

Helen. You are a dear silly boy, Raymond. I won- 
der if you really care as much as you seem to. 

Osgood. Care, Helen ! Oh, my dear, my dear; if you 
only knew how much I love you ! 



20 " OH ! HELPLESS MAN " 

Helen. I wonder — not that it makes any difference, 
of course, since I shall never marry 

Osgood. You don't love me even one little bit ? 

Helen. Well — er — not enough to be willing to sacri- 
fice my independence, my career — everything. I sup- 
pose I am too selfish — at any rate, that's how it is. 

Osgood. Is there any one else, Helen? 

Helen. No. 

Osgood. Well, that's something at any rate. 

Helen. Now suppose we change the subject. Will 
you add to your many favors by putting up those por- 
tieres ? 

Osgood. Will I? Just watch me add to my many 
favors. {Climbs up on chair on trunk. Helen hands 
him the new portieres, which he puts up. Then he jumps 
down.) Now what? 

Helen. That's all, thank you. 

Osgood (wistfully). Helen ? 

Helen (emphatically). That's all. Thank you. Now 
I must see Mrs. Pinchbeck to tell her about Stella. Are 
you nearly ready to go out ? 

Osgood (hurt). Excuse me for being so long about 
it. I shall be ready in five minutes. I promise to be gone 
before you return. 

Helen. Don't be silly, Raymond dear. You know 
very well I meant nothing of the kind. I have some 
errands to do and I simply want to know whether you 
would care to accompany me. 

Osgood. Would I care ! 

Helen. Well, then I shall come back after I have 
seen Mrs. Pinchbeck. But you must promise to be good. 

Osgood. Meaning? 

Helen. That you will avoid subjects which are taboo. 

Osgood. Oh, you don't want me to make love to you. 

Helen. Promise. 

Osgood. I promise never again to ask you to be my 
wife unless 

Helen. Oh, reservations ! 

Osgood. Unless I am certain that your answer will be 
"yes." 



" OH ! HELPLESS MAN 21 

Helen. Oh, well, that is entirely satisfactory. Au 
revoir, then. 
Osgood. By-bye. 

{Exit Helen, back l. Exit Osgood, back r., leaving 
door open. Whistling outside. After an interval 
reenters, putting on his coat and still whistling in 
snatches. Throughout the following pantomime his 
actions are punctuated here and there with snatches 
of whistling, which convey the varying emotions with 
which he meets the vicissitudes of the situation. In 
the absorbing moments the whistling is entirely sus- 
pended and at times it comes mechanically in de- 
tached staccato phrases. As he attempts to button 
his coat the button pidls off. He chases it, picks it 
up and finds the place on the coat where it belongs. 
It is the upper button. He wonders whether its ab- 
sence woidd be noticed. Sees on the table Helen's 
work-basket, which she put there when she was un- 
packing the trunk. He wonders if she would mind 
if he were to use it. Lays the button on the table 
while he hunts through the basket for sewing mate- 
rials. Finds thread and needles. Carefully selects 
a needle, passing by the small ones and anxiously 
comparing the size of the eyes with that of the 
thread. The thread looks enormous and the eyes 
microscopic. Well, here is the biggest one at all 
events. He carefully places it on the table, picks up 
the spool of thread, drops it and chases it as it rolls 
away, picks it up and places it on the table. Oh, the 
scissors. Yes, they are there. He takes them out 
and places them on the table. He draws up a chair. 
Shall he take off his coat? No; he can sew the but- 
ton on without doing that. He breaks off a very 
long thread. At this point Helen enters back l. 
without being seen by Osgood. Her first impulse 
is to come forward to offer her assistance; but she be- 
comes interested in his struggles as a sporting propo- 
sition and remains unobserved throughout the scene 
following his every action with absorbing interest — 
at first amused, then with growing solicitude and at 



22 " OH ! HELPLESS MAN ** 

last with tender sympathy. Osgood tahes up the 
needle in his right hand and the thread in his left. 
No, that isn't convenient. In trying to change hands 
he drops the needle and has to get down on his 
hands and knees to find it. Ah, here it is! This 
time he holds the needle in his left hand; but now 
where is the thread? There it is on the chair where 
he put it zvhen he was looking for the needle. How 
big the thread is and how small the eye. He sets the 
needle down on the table while he carefvdly rolls the 
end of the thread between his thumb and forefinger. 
That's better. He picks up the needle and tries 
again. Now surely it ought to go in. But it doesn't; 
the thread passes to the right or to the left of the 
eye, but stubbornly dodges the opening. That's be- 
cause his hands shake. He crosses his knees and 
bracing his left elbow on his knee and his right hand 
against his left, closes one eye and unconsciously 
sticks out his tongue and moves it sympathetically 
with every effort he makes. It is no use. An idea 
strikes him. He digs the needle upright into the 
upholstered seat of the chair, and steadying his right 
hand with his left, he kneels before the chair and 
concentrates on his job. Success at last! The 
thread is through the eye! Carefully he holds the 
needle and pulls the thread completely through. He 
isn't going to take any chances; he will use the thread 
double. He ties the free ends together, and to make 
assurance doubly sure he makes a triple knot. Now 
then, where is that button? He looks around, 
searches through his pockets and finds it at last on 
■ the table where he had put it. Yes, that is the one; 
it matches the others; and here is the place where it 
belongs. He sticks the needle through from the 
outside without noticing his mistake and then slips 
the button over the needle, thus bringing the button 
on the inside of the coat. The thread is so long 
that he cannot pull it through in one stretch of the 
arm, but is obliged to pidl it through with his left 
hand while he holds the needle as high as possible in 



"oh ! HELPLESS MAN " 23 

his right. Now then all seems plain sailing. He 
puts the needle through back and forth several times, 
each time repeating the business of pulling through 
the very long thread. The whistling progresses 
smoothly for a while until he pricks his finger. He 
does not utter the language which the incident sug- 
gests, but it is obvious that he visualises it. He 
drops the needle and after looking compassionately 
at the hurt finger, puts it to his mouth. At this point 
Helen finds it hard to refrain from going to his 
assistance. But he is not going to be discouraged 
by a little thing like a pricked finger. Where is that 
needle nowf He looks on the table and hunts around 
on the floor, forgetting that the needle is dangling at 
the end of the thread, ivhose other end is fast to his 
coat. At last he discovers it and, hand over hand, 
he hauls in the long thread until he has recovered 
the needle. He now philosophically resumes his 
task. It is becoming harder to push the needle 
through without a thimble. How about using the 
heel of one's shoe as a pusher? No go; he cannot 
reach his heel unless he takes off his coat. Oh! the 
table. He forces the needle through by pushing it 
against the table top, repeating this operation several 
times. Now he winds the thread, with many turns, 
under the button and makes the final thrusts of the 
needle to secure the end of the thread. At last the 
job is done. He has not used up all the thread; but 
enough is enough; and he will leave the needle 
threaded for next time. That will save some one 
future agonies. With evident satisfaction he cuts 
off the thread, carefidly puts back the sewing ma- 
terials zvhere he found them, rises and attempts in 
vain to button his coat. What has become of that 
elusive button?) 

Helen {comes forward. She is laughing; hut her 
laughter has in it a note of wistful tenderness). You 
poor thing! 

Osgood. Eh! what? You here? 

Helen. You poor helpless boy ! 



24 OH ! HELPLESS MAN 

Osgood. What's the matter ? 

Helen (laughing). Why, the button 

Osgood. Yes, that's what I want to know. Where 

the ? (He discovers the button on the under side of 

the lapel.) Say, it's on the inside, isn't it? But how the 
deuce did it get there ? 

Helen. I wonder. Here, let me have your coat. 

Osgood. Oh! would you? That's awfully good of 
you. (Takes off and hands her his coat. She seats 
herself, removes the offending button and begins deftly to 
sew it on in its proper place.) I don't think I could have 
tackled the job again without a chance to recuperate 
first. I generally use the patent buttons, but in this 
case they wouldn't match, you see. 

Helen. Hardly. (After a pause.) I think I under- 
stand now what Stella meant. 

Osgood. I am afraid I don't quite follow you. 

Helen. Why, Stella says that every man needs a 
mother. 

Osgood. Well I, for one, shouldn't think of disputing 
the point. But every man, I take it, has had, has, or is 
likely to have a mother. 

Helen. She meant that every man needs a mother all 
his life. That's why she's marrying Mr. Castleton. 

Osgood. What ! Because he needs a mother? 

Helen. Yes ; she says a man never quite grows up. 

Osgood. And so she's going to be a mother to him? 
Does he know that he is marrying his mother ? 

Helen. I don't know. 

Osgood. I rather think not. Most decent men I 
know are pretty well satisfied with the mothers that 
Nature has given them ; but I think I am safe in asserting 
that no man wants to marry a mother. 

Helen. No; he wants to marry a weak, clinging, 
dependent creature whom he can protect and support and 
on occasion bully. 

Osgood. Oh ! bully ? 

Helen. Yes, bully; not necessarily in a brutal way; 
but bully just the same. 

Osgood. As a matter of fact even when such a man 



OH ! HELPLESS MAN 



25 



gets such a wife, no matter how tyrannical he may seem 
to be, she almost always rules him with a rod of iron. 

Helen. And mothers him into the bargain. 

Osgood. What a lot you seem to know about marriage 
for a woman as little interested in the subject as you 
are. 

interested in the subject- 



am 



-m a 



Yes, once I was a great deal. 



Helen. Oh ! I 
way. Aren't you ? 

Osgood. I was once. 

Helen. But now? 

Osgood. Not a bit. 

Helen. No ? 

Osgood {decidedly). No. 

Helen {after a pause). What did you say? 

Osgood. I ? I didn't say anything. 

Helen. Oh! I thought {Another long pause.) 

What was the question you asked me ? 

Osgood. A question? I? 

Helen. 

Osgood. 

Helen. 

Osgood. 

Helen. 

Osgood. 

Helen. 

Osgood. 

Helen. 

Osgood. 

Helen. 

Osgood. 
fused. 

Helen. 

Osgood. 

Helen. 

Osgood. 
remarkable ! 

Helen. Yes — well — 

Osgood. Well what ? 

Helen. Oh ! nothing 
ask me something. 



Yes ; some time ago. 

I don't recall asking you any question. 

Why yes ; don't you remember ? 

No ; at any rate 

Yes? 

Not any question that remained unanswered. 

No? 

Nor that I can ever ask again. 

Oh ! I thought perhaps 

No ; I asked you to marry me. 

Yes ; I think that was it. 

You think ! Well, that was it ; and you re- 

So I did. 

Finally ; peremptorily. 

I remember now. 

Oh ! do you ? After all that time ? How 



I thought you were going to 



26 "oh! helpless man" 

Osgood. No; I have nothing else to ask. Nothing 
else matters. 
Helen (after along pause). Suppose you were to 

(Hesitates. ) 

Osgood. Suppose I were to what ? 

Helen. To ask me again. 

Osgood. What ! To marry me you mean ? 

Helen. Ask me again, Raymond. 

Osgood. You mean it, Helen? You mean it? 
(Takes her hands in his and looks into her eyes.) 

Helen. Yes, dear; of course. 

Osgood (kisses her hands rapturously). Helen! My 
darling ! But I don't understand. Half an hour ago 

Helen. Why rake up my past? 

Osgood. And now — Helen, what does it mean ? 

Helen. It seems to mean that after rejecting all the 
offers of marriage with which you have honored me, I 
am now' accepting the one which you persistently refuse 
to make. 

Osgood. Yes ; but 

Helen. " But " ? Isn't that enough? 

Osgood. Oh, yes, dear; if you really mean it; but are 
you sure that you love me — that you are not marrying me 
out of pity — just to mother me — just to 

Helen. Sew on your buttons? And what if that 
were the reason? 

Osgood (indignantly). Why then — then of course — 

why then Oh, hang it! I'd marry you just the 

same. 

Helen. Then that's settled, isn't it? 

Osgood. Yes, darling ; that is settled. 

(Takes her in his arms. Knock at door hack l., which 
neither hears. Enter Mrs. Pinchbeck followed by 
Expressman with trunk on his shoulder.) 

Mrs. Pinchbeck. Oh ! I beg your pardon ; I thought 
you were out. 

(Expressman drops trunk with a crash. Helen and 
Osgood break away.) 



" OH ! HELPLESS MAN " 27 

Expressman. I've got all the troonks on the landin' 
and the sicond load of things at the dure. If yer hus- 
band is riddy ter move out, I'm the bye ter do the job fer 
him, seein' as I'm Johnny on the spot. 

Osgood. Oh, thanks; but I don't believe What 

do you think, Helen? When is it going to be? Is it 
worth while to remove all my things? 

Helen. Just as you say, dear. 

Osgood. Oh, if it's as I say, a small suitcase will 
be all I shall need until the wedding. 

Mrs. Pinchbeck. The wedding ! Oh, isn't that fine ! 
Then you'll not have to go for long after all, Mr. Osgood. 

Osgood. Just long enough to obtain the license and 
make the necessary preparations. 

Mrs. Pinchbeck. Well, well; and it came about all 
so sudden, didn't it? 

Osgood. By no means, Mrs. Pinchbeck; I can assure 
you it came about very slowly and very hard. As hard 
as — as hard as 

Helen. Putting a cable through the eye of a needle. 

Osgood. Just so. 

Expressman. Well, I congratulate yez all, Av coorse 
'tain't none o' my bizness ; but all the same, 'tis better so 
I do be thinkin'. 



CURTAIN 



t 



SEASON 1922 



A BUNCH OF FUN 

A Farce in Three Acts. By Brastus Osgood 

Five males, nine females. A simple interior scene throughout. 
Modern costumes. The plot of this farce crackles with fun as 
though charged with laughter and smiles. Vera, the baseball girl, 
makes a " hit " in more ways than one. Sylvia, the dancing girl, 
steps right into the hilarity with a whirl. Nina, the stage aspirant, 
gives a new twist to Shakespeare, and Cecily, the Mandolin girl, 
would lure a smile from a Sphinx. These four girls are the 
" Bunch." Tacks, the football star, tackles love from a new angle. 
Ray was a born Romeo, but misfires. Lynn plays the clown to 
every one's delight, and if Murray hadn't written the sketch, lots 
of things would not have happened. Mrs. Selma Blair tries to 
break up the fun, but " nothing doing." Miss Martha is a delightful 
character, Alice entertains the " bunch " and is well repaid. Dr. 
and Mrs. Grandon form a charming background for an evening of 
wholesome amusement. And last, the arch fun-maker, Christina, 
the Swedish maid. If she knew how funny she was, she wouldn't 
believe it. She is " stuck on the movies " but Ray declared, " that 
for pulling funny stunts, Christina has got Charlie Chaplin beaten 
forty different ways." Free for amateur performance. 
Price, 25 cents 

CHARACTERS 

Rev. Stephen Grandon, D. D., rector of St. Paul's. 

Mary, his zvife, "flustered on occasions." 

Martha, his sister, " a trifle warped." 

Christina, a Swedish maid, " stuck on the movies.'* 

Raymond Hunting, o live wire. 

Vera Matherson, a baseball fan. 

Nina Lee, a stage aspirant. 

Ceciey Moori^and, the mandolin girl. 

Syevia Stewart, the dancing girl. 

Lynn Lockwood, the man " who takes off his face." 

Aeice Hunting, the entertaining girl. 

Murray Kent, a college playwright 

Tacks Mueford, a football star. 

Mrs. Seema Beair, a pest in the parish. 
Scene 
Heatherdale near New York. (The entire action takes place in 
the living-room at the rectory.) 

Time : Present. 
Act I. — "The Bunch" arrives. 
Act n. — ■" The Bunch " in action. 
Act in.—" The Bunch " choose partners. 



GOOD-EVENING, CLARICE 

A Farce Comedy in Three Acts,^ By J. C. McMullen 

Five males, six females. Playing time, approximately two hours. 
Costumes of the present day. Scene — a single interior. Annette 
Franklin, a jealous wife, has been raising a little domestic war over 
her husband's supposed infatuation for a noted dancer, Clarice de 
Mauree. How Annette was proven wrong in her supposition, cured 
of her jealousy, and found her long lost parents, makes a comedy, 
which, while easy of production, proves very effective in the pre- 
sentation. The part of Clarice, the dancer, gives the opportunity 
for an excellent female character lead. All of the other parts are of 
equal importance and the situations fairly radiate comedy and swift 
moving action. This new play has already made its public debut 
in manuscript form, having been used with great success on the 
Pacific coast. Royalty, $10.00 for the first and $5.00 for each subse- 
quent performance by the same cast. Professional rates will be 
quoted on request. 

Scenes 

Act I. — Iviving-room of the Franklin residence, Buffalo, N. Y., 
7:15 P. M. 

Act II. — The same, 8:15 p. m. 

Act III. — The same, 9 :oo p. m. 

Price, 50 cents. 

HIS UNCLE'S NIECE 

A Rollicking Farce in Three Acts. By Raymond W. Sargent 

Six males, three females. Scenery not difficult. The plot of this 
hilarious farce centres around a letter received by Francis Felton 
from his Uncle Simon of Happy Valley Junction, who has always 
supposed that Francis was of the opposite sex. Thq^ letter an- 
nounces that the uncle has selected a husband for his niece and that 
they are both on the way to New York to make final arrangements 
for the wedding. In desperation, to keep up a deception started 
years before by his parents, Francis assumes a female character 
role in order to carry out a provision whereby he is to receive a 
million dollar bequest from his uncle. The explanations made 
necessary through this change are amusing and realistic. The 
denouement is a surprise and one that will lift the audience to its 
feet with applause. You have seen Charley's Aunt on the pro- 
fessional stage, and here is a chance for amateurs to act in a play 
that is even better suited to their requirements. 

CHARACTERS 

Scenes 
Act I. — Interior of Francis Felton's and Richard Tate's bachelor 
establishment at Boston. 
Act II. — Same as Act I. Afternoon of the same day. 
Act III. — Exterior of Uncle Simon's summer home at Happy 
Valley Junction. Evening; three days later. 
Time : Midsummer. 
Time of playing: Approximately two hours. 
Price, 25 cents. 



SUNSHINE 

A Comedy in Three Acts. By Walter Ben Hare 

Four males, seven females. Scene, one simple exterior, easily ar- 
ranged with a small lot of potted plants and rustic furniture. This 
charming play was really written to order, to satisfy an ever growing 
demand for a comedy that could be used either as a straight play or 
as a musical comedy. The author has arranged a happy and real- 
istic blend of the two types of entertainment, and the catchy tunes 
which he has suggested should find favor in the amateur field. The 
story leads the audience a merry chase from snappy farce to real 
drama (with just a flavoring of the melodramatic) which modern 
audiences find so pleasing. Here we find a great character part in 
a popular baseball hero, who succeeds in making a home run in more 
ways than one, a wonderful leading lady role in the part of Mary ; a 
hypochondriac, who finds his medicine most pleasant to the taste; 
an old maid who mourns the loss of her parrot, and a Sis Hopkins 
type of girl with the exuberance of spirit that keeps the audience on 
its mettle. The Major is a character of great possibilities and in 
the hands of a capable actor much can be made of it. Sunshine is 
the sort of play that will live for years, as its very atmosphere is 
permeated with good will toward the world at large. We cannot 
too highly recommend this play, written by an author with scores 
of successes behind him and not a single failure. Royalty $10.00 for 
the first performance and $5.00 for each subsequent performance 
given by the same cast. 

Price, 50 cents. 



CHARACTERS 

Maudeua McCann, aged ten. 

Mrs. Bunch McCann, of Detroit, the mother. 

Mrs. Soi, WHippr,E, of Whipple's Corners, Conn., the 

country lady. 
Miss Tessie Mitford, the mental case. 
Mr. Juba K. Butternip, of Peoria, III, the old man. 
Miss Gregory, the nurse. 
Buddy Brady, of New York, the hall player. 
Major Keeucott, the speculator. 
Jim Anthony, he's engaged. 
Syevia Deane, she's engaged. 
Mary, " Sunshine." 
Boys and Gires. 

Scene: The lawn at Sunshine Sanitarium, near New York City. 
Act I. — Morning. 
Act II. — Afternoon. 
Act III.— Night. 

Time of playing: Two hours. 



STEP OUT— JACK! 

An Optimistic Comedy in Three Acts. By Harry Osborne 

A successful vehicle for talented amateurs. Twelve males (can 
be played with less), five females. Costumes modern. Scenery, 
three simple interiors. Jack Rysdale is " down and out." All he 
has in the world are the clothes on his back and the love in his heart 
for the wealthy and beautiful Zoe Galloway, He dare not ask her 
to marry him until he has made his way in the world. Zoe loves 
him, and while the girls in New York do nearly everything else, they 
do not propose — ^yet. Jack's fighting spirit is about gone when he 
meets a man named Wilder, who is a natural fighter and knows hov\r 
to bring out the fighting qualities in others. From him Jack learns 
that he has a dangerous inval in Percy Lyons. He learns that if he 
is going to get anj^where in this world, he can't stand in line and 
await his turn but must step out and " go get it." He learns more 
from Wilder in ten minutes than he absorbed in a "whole year in 
college. So, figuratively speaking, he steps out, takes the middle of 
the road and " gives 'er gas." Once started, nothing can stop him 
until he has attained his object. Every girl will fall in love with 
Jack and every man and boy will admire his pluck and courage. 
Zoe is a matrimonial prize on fourteen different counts, and her 
chum, Cynthia, a close second. Wilder is a regular man's man who 
can convince any one who doesn't wear ear muffs that black is 
white and vice-versa. Then there is Percy Lyons, who never stayed 
out very late, Clarence Galloway, a rich man's son looking for a 
job, Buddie the office boy, who is broken-hearted if he misses a 
ball game, and Bernice Williams, who thinks she is a regular little 
Home Wrecker but isn't. An artistic and box office success for 
clever amateurs. 

Act I.— Private Office of R. W. Wilder. 
Act II. — Library — John Galloway's Home. 
Act III. — Rysdale's office. 

Time: The present. 
Pi,ACE: New York Citfy. 
Time of playing: Approximately two hours. 
Price, 50 cents Royalty, $10.00 

THE SHOW ACTRESS 

A Comedy in One Act. By J. C. McMuUen 

Two males, four females. Costumes, country of the present day. 
Playing time about forty minutes. Scene, dining-roorn of the Martin 
Homestead, Hillville, Vt. A burlesque troupe is stranded in the 
little village of Hillville. Goldie, the star, is taken in by the Martins. 
Her adventures with the cow at milking time, and with the domestic 
cook-stove are a scream. She eventually restores the Mar- 
tins' lost daughter, captures the thief robbing the village bank and 
marries Zek'l, the bashful village constable. Full of action. All 
parts good, Goldie the lead, and Zek'l, the bashful lover, being 
particularly effective. 

Price, 25 cents. 



AMATEURS* SUPPLIES 

PREPARED BURNT CORK— Will not dry out. Always in 
condition for immediate use. Easily removed. Enough 

for four people. Per box (about 2 oz.) $ .30 

One-half lb., $1.00; per lb I.8S 

SPIRIT GUM— For sticking on whiskers, etc. Easily 

removed with Cocoa Butter or Cold Cream. Per bottle. .35 
COLD CREAM — For removing grease paints, spirit gum, 

etc. In tubes 30 

COCOA BUTTER— For same purpose as Cold Cream 30 

CLOWN WHITE— For Pantomimes, Clowns, Statuary, etc. 

Per box •^o 

CARMINE LINER— Per stick 30 

BLUE — For the eyes. Per stick 30 

EYE BROW PENCILS— Black, Brown. In nickel-plated 

metal tubes. Each .25 

GRENADINE OR LIP ROUGE 35 

THEATRICAL BLENDING POWDER— Thoroughly hides 
oily appearance of grease paints. Not to be confused 
with street powder. No. i, White; No. 2, Flesh; No. 3, 
Brunette; No. 4, Rose Tint for juvenile heroes; No. 7, 
Healthy Sunburn; No. 10, Sallow for both young and' 
old age; No. 11, all ruddy exposed characters; No. 17, 

American Indian, East Indian, Othello 40 

ROUGE DE THEATRE— No. 18, Medium shade for juve- 
nile and fair complexion; No. 36, Brunette for decided 
brunette types ; No. 24, Deep Rose for darker hues. 

Per box 35 

HAIR POWDER— White only. To gray or whiten the 

hair or beard 35 

POWDER PUFFS — For applying blending powder 30 

HARE'S FEET— For blending make-up 30 

STOMPS — Leather, for lining face for wrinkles, etc 30 

NOSE PUTTY— For building up nose or chin 35 

EMAIL NOIR OR BLACK WAX— Black, for stopping out 

teeth .35 

WATER COSMETIQUE or MASCARO— White, Black, 
Dark Brown, Light Brown, Blonde, Red, for coloring 
the beard, eyebrows or hair at temples to match wig. 

Removed with soap and water. Each 35 

MAKE-UP PENCILS— Light Flesh, Dark Flesh, Brown, 
Black, White, Gray, Carmine, Pink and Crimson. Set 

in a box 1.35 

LINING PENCILS— Black, Brown, Crimson, Gray and 

White. Each 20 

LADIES' BEAUTY BOX— For stage or toilet use. Con- 
tains Flesh Color Face Powder, Theatrical Cold Cream, 
Theatre Rouge, Eyebrow Pencil, Powder Puff, Hare's 
Foot, Flesh Color Exora Cream and Lip Rouge 1.35 

Always send your orders to 

WAJ.TER H. BAKER CO«t Boston, Mass. 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 



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JW A.<WA.Hr,^.«i..ftr,<W.IWJ>„l>,,*>^_-l-91 '^ Q°9 514 9 




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AMATEURS' SUPPLIES 

MAKE-UP BOX — For either Gentleman or Lad3', a hands<Mne 
japanned tin case, with lock and key, and containing the 
following articles: A set of Grease Paints (nine colors). 
Blending Powder (two colors). Rouge de Theatre, Eyebrow 
Pencil, Greni^dine or Lip Rouge, Blue for the Eyes, Nose 
Putty, Email Noir or Black Wax, Mascaro or Water Co3- 
metique and Brush, Spirit Gum and Brush, Powder Puff, 
Cocoa Butter, Burnt Cork, Two Artist's Stomps, Hare's 
Foot, Mirror, Scissors and Five Colors of Crepe Hair. All 
these articles are of the best quality. The actual listed value 
of the articles enumerated, all of which are included with 
our complete Make-Up Box, would be over $7.00; so that 
the handsome carrying case is included at no additional cost 
when you buy this outfit. By express, shipping charges not 
paid $7.00 

GREASEPAINTS 

No. No. 

1. Vefy Pale Flesh Color. 12. Olive, Healthy. 

2. I^igbt Flesh, Deeper Tint 13. Olive, Jvighter Shade. 

3. Natural Flesh Color for Juvenile Heroes. 14. Gypsy Flesh Cvlor. 

4. Rose Tint Color for Juvenile Herees. 15i Othello. 

5. Deeper Shade Color for Juvenile Heroes.16. Chinese. 

6. Healthy Sunburnt for Juvenila Heroes. 17. Indian. 

7. Healthy Sunburnt, Deeper Shade. IS. East Indian, 
S. Sallow, for Younr- Men. 19. Japanese. 
9. Healthy Color, lor Middle Age. 20. Light Negw. 

10. Sallow, for Ok: Age. 21. Black. 

11. Ruddy, for Old Age. 22. White. 
(Done Up in sticks of 4 inches in length at 30c each.) 

MISCELLANEOUS SUPPLIES 
FOR YOUR MINSTREL SHOW 

M Minstrel Chorus Wigs (special price by the dozen), each $1.35 

jj End Men's Fancy Wig 2.25 

ll Fright Wig (Mechanical) 3.00 

"Uncle Tom " Wig 2.25 

"Topsy" Wig 2.2$ 

Sonnetts or Clappers (per pair) 25 

Paper Collars (end men) 15 

Dress Shirt Fronts 35 

Stage Jewelry : Shirt Stud 50 

Large Diamond Ring 75 

Stage Money : 20 sheet's 10 

100 sheets 40 

Always sefid your orders to 

A 'WALTER H. BAKER CO«, Boston, Mass. |^ 



